


goodbyes are getting old

by jesuschristjasonderulo



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angel Dust is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Arguing, Drug Abuse, Hurt No Comfort, Husk is Bad At Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), M/M, am sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27828361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesuschristjasonderulo/pseuds/jesuschristjasonderulo
Summary: Husk knows conversation shouldn't turn to warfare, and he knows he shouldn't enjoy it in the slightest. But as shots are fired over heavy turrets, he can't help but smile when a bullet hits its mark. That's the soldier in him, he thinks. It never ceases to remind him that normalcy is one of the many luxuries he will never be able to hold on to.
Relationships: Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	goodbyes are getting old

Husk tries, to his credit. He was never any good at the things that seem to be demanded of him these days, but he tries.  
  
Angel, on his end, doesn't seem to try at all.  
  
It's another late night, an empty bottle of Jack and one too many sexual comments tipping him over the edge. Angel, of course, doesn't hesitate to jump on the opportunity to piss him off even more. Everyone else is sleeping (except maybe Alastor, but he doesn't keep tabs on that creep) and they try to keep their voices hushed. But, as things involving Angel usually do, the argument escalates. Each dig that they shoot back and forth seems to mount itself on a heaping pile of grievances just barely held back by the industrial dam in his mind.  
  
It's cracking.  
  
"Honestly, would it kill you to just chill for a second? Hell ain't goin' anywhere, kitty."  
  
"It's already Hell, do you have to make everything worse?"  
  
"You're one to talk, ya old piece of shit. You always have to pull everything down with your angsty bullshit."  
  
"My angsty bullshit? Wanna talk about that when you decide to rant about your fucking boss for the millionth time?"  
  
  
Husk knows conversation shouldn't turn to warfare, and he knows he shouldn't enjoy it in the slightest. But as shots are fired over heavy turrets, he can't help but smile when a bullet hits its mark. That's the soldier in him, he thinks. It never ceases to remind him that normalcy is one of the many luxuries he will never be able to hold on to.  
  
On the other hand, it seems too easy. Angel leaves himself exposed. The spider is far too bold to hide and retreat when he should. He just doesn't care. The nature of Angel's recklessness comes from years of dodging and weaving through danger. He's the type to storm in with his guns blazing and shut his eyes while he fires. Maybe he's far too confident in his aim. Maybe he wants to get hit.   
  
But what really makes the fluffy whore difficult is his spontaneous battles. He picks a fight as if one might discuss the weather, especially when he comes back coated in the powder of his namesake and other....questionable fluids. He's unpredictable to Charlie, a pain to Vaggie, but Husk? He doesn't even know. The warm feelings and random urges to be nice contrast so starkly with the annoyance and the exhaustion. It's like some kind of sickly sweet liquor that burns all the way down but leaves you wasted enough to forget it until it comes back up in the morning. And the more he learns, the more he wants to drown in the feeling.  
  
He likes cooking, but mostly the result. Apparently no one else knows how to do it right, and that's the only reason he set foot into the kitchen. He's flighty and irreverent at best, manic and aggressive at worst. Angel's emotions shine through those mismatched eyes of his. His cocky grin is mostly perpetual, but his eyes turn up when he's actually happy. He almost always has some raunchy comment at hand to hide a lie or a secret. He likes pranks, but only when other people are played.   
  
  
Angel doesn't think ahead. He acts on impulse like he can reset whenever he wants. The closest he'll ever get is a bag of PCP and a quick fuck, but he doesn't seem to acknowledge that.  
  
  
Husk isn't any better, is he? Finding peace in a bottle, hiding behind the same turrets he's masked himself with for decades: he'd call himself a hypocrite, but at least he's aware of it. Angel doesn't know shit about himself.  
|  
If he did, then...   
  
"Maybe you should find someone else to fuck with, slut. I'm sure you have plenty of fuckin' options."   
  
And with that, he fires a clear shot where he knows it'll hurt. He doesn't take satisfaction in the kill anymore. He can't be proud of the way Angel's shoulders slump, his eyes screaming defeat as he keeps that smug grin on his face. It's too late, though. The spider has a terrible poker face.   
  
"Maybe I will. Y'know, one man's trash an' all that." The demon stands, stretching out both sets of arms as he does.   
  
There's a story in the way he walks, the usual bounce in his step or well-practiced stride replaced by what can only be described as a retreat. And god, the cat wishes he could take words back. He wishes he had a better way of deterring people than being such an asshole. But Angel doesn't know himself. Angel doesn't know that Husk is so far below him that he can only do harm. Angel deserves love, and Husk?  
  
Husk deserves to be alone.


End file.
